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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25944649">Tomorrow's Sky</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/xdandelionxbloomx/pseuds/xdandelionxbloomx'>xdandelionxbloomx</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Tired Symphony Verse [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst With A Happy End, Fight Scene, M/M, POV switch, a little more explanation in the author's note, can you believe I started this series at the beginning of his year, didn't want to spoil too much, ends happy, geralt has a lot of feelings, it's not permadeath but I needed to tag because it is intensely sad, marked mature for the violence and character death tag, pov switch about halfway through</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 06:48:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,711</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25944649</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/xdandelionxbloomx/pseuds/xdandelionxbloomx</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“You need to rest.” Geralt insisted, and Jaskier let himself be guided back down onto the mattress. </p><p>“She said I’m part of a bigger picture. That the game-- the game can’t be won without me toppling.” Jaskier echoed the words that had sent his skin prickling with chills. </p><p>Geralt’s arms tugged him into the witcher’s chest and Jaskier curled up against him, tucking his head under his chin, allowing himself to be held. </p><p>“I’ll keep you safe.” Geralt murmured against his hair. </p><p>“I don’t know if you can.” Jaskier whispered, voice small. </p><p>The witcher’s arms squeezed him tight. </p><p>+++</p><p>Vignettes of the end of a world and a beginning of another.</p><p>+++</p><p>Fifth and final part of the Tired Symphony Verse.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Tired Symphony Verse [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1597723</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>343</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Tomorrow's Sky</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>SKIP THIS IF YOU DON'T WANT SPOILERS AND TRUST ME TO NOT MAKE IT PERMANENT CHARACTER DEATH.<br/>+<br/>+<br/>+<br/>+<br/>If you need more clarity before reading, Jaskier does die but he is reincarnated. Also, graphic explanations of violence and Jaskier's struggle with his health before his death.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Geralt stood on the far side of the room, a hand pressed over his eyes. The other arm crossed over his chest, as if he was trying to hold himself together. </p><p>Jaskier perched on the edge of the bed, all of his injuries complaining from his rough fall to the wooden floor. </p><p>“The Wild Hunt?” The bard repeated Geralt’s words quietly. </p><p>The witcher nodded slowly - “They aren’t supposed to exist.” He murmured and dropped his hand from his face, searching Jaskier’s face. </p><p>“They do.” Jaskier murmured, quietly. “They must.” </p><p>“They’re said to be spectres that bring an eternal ice with them wherever they ride. They are-- otherworldly and kill all those in their path.” Geralt’s lips twisted into a grimace. </p><p>“Skellige has the most documented sightings. They say they ride undead horses, frost at their heels. Faces twisted and warped by rot, carrying swords that could raze whole villages to the ground.” </p><p>Jaskier shivered, breath catching. “I’ve seen that ice, Geralt.” He whispered, bracing his elbows on his knees. He slumped forward to hide his face in his hands. </p><p>“I’ve-- dreams.” He struggled to get it out past the tightness in his throat, his brows drawing together. “They’re terrible. The bruxa, they-- their minds, they--” Influenced him, maybe, and he lifted his head to gesture helplessly. </p><p>“Eredin leads them.” Geralt said, quietly. </p><p>“He’s the King.” Jaskier said, half over Geralt’s sentence, already knowing the answer. He bit the inside of his cheek, quiet for a few moments as he tried to soak it in. </p><p>“I told Vesemir about the dreams.” He said, finally, and met Geralt’s gaze. He felt <em> exhausted </em>, drained and aching. </p><p>“He thought they might mean something more than just… my worries manifested.” Jaskier murmured, and then reached a hand towards Geralt. The witcher hesitated only a moment before he was moving closer, looping his strong arms around Jaskier’s shoulders, standing in the space between his knees. Jaskier buried his face against his chest, breathing deeply, slumping against him. </p><p>Geralt’s broad hand settled on the back of his neck, thumb brushing back and forth as the bard’s arms settled around his waist, clinging to him. </p><p>“We have to go back.” Jaskier’s voice wobbled a bit. “As soon as possible.” </p><p>Geralt pressed his lips to the top of Jaskier’s head in a gentle kiss. “Hattori will be finished with the swords soon.” </p><p>Jaskier tangled his fingers in Geralt’s shirt. “We should go now.” He whispered. “If they’re spectres, who knows--” </p><p>“They would have taken her by now if they were just able to simply step in. They’re waiting for something.” Geralt interrupted his oncoming panic. </p><p>Silence for a moment. </p><p>“The bruxa.” Jaskier mumbled, muffled by Geralt’s shirt. “She called me the domino that refused to fall.” </p><p>Geralt’s hand squeezed the back of his neck gently. A sharp inhale. </p><p>“You need to heal.” He rumbled and Jaskier closed his eyes to linger, just for a moment, in the guise of safety. “So we will wait for the swords and then we will go back. Ciri will be safe. She has the rest of the Wolf School with her.” </p><p>Jaskier shook his head slightly, but he couldn’t bring himself to dredge up his voice from where it had curled up in his chest. </p><p>“You need to rest.” Geralt insisted, and Jaskier let himself be guided back down onto the mattress. </p><p>“She said I’m part of a bigger picture. That the game-- the game can’t be won without me toppling.” Jaskier echoed the words that had sent his skin prickling with chills. </p><p>Geralt’s arms tugged him into the witcher’s chest and Jaskier curled up against him, tucking his head under his chin, allowing himself to be held. </p><p>“I’ll keep you safe.” Geralt murmured against his hair. </p><p>“I don’t know if you can.” Jaskier whispered, voice small. </p><p>The witcher’s arms squeezed him tight. </p><p>+++</p><p>Jaskier was still wearing bandages beneath his shirt when Geralt allowed them to travel. </p><p>It was mostly because the bard had started <em> really </em> pushing. He might still be healing, but they could ride and truthfully he couldn’t bear to stay here a moment longer with the thought that he was not with the girls. </p><p>They met Hattori at his forge and the elf looked haunted. </p><p>“Something is very wrong.” He murmured, meeting Geralt’s gaze with a worried furrow between his brows. </p><p>“Come with us.” Geralt said, voice low, his gaze darting about. </p><p>“No.” Jaskier said, immediately. “If you’re not a fighter, don’t.” He shook his head, reaching out to place a hand on Geralt’s arm, giving it a light squeeze as he felt the witcher’s gaze settle on him in confusion. </p><p>“Whatever is coming - Kaer Morhen will be the epicenter. If you’re not a fighter, you must get somewhere else safe.” Jaskier searched his face, giving him an almost sad smile. </p><p>“I understand.” Hattori replied, voice quiet. </p><p>A pause. </p><p>“You’ll be careful, won’t you, Geralt?” The two of them look at each other for a moment and Jaskier swallowed down the lump in his throat. </p><p>That terrible feeling just wouldn’t leave. </p><p>Geralt gave a sharp nod and extended his hand, clasping Hattori’s forearm. They grasped each other like that for a moment and then Geralt stepped away. </p><p>After a long moment Hattori ducked inside his shop, returning with a thick bundle - inside Jaskier knew there to be four swords. </p><p>Jaskier took the bundle from the elf, worry wound tightly around his spine - it felt these days as if it was woven into his very being. </p><p>“Please be safe.” He told him, softly, and turned when Geralt did. </p><p>He should not have looked over his shoulder as they walked away, but he could not resist glancing over his shoulder once - </p><p>Just once - </p><p>Hattori stood at the edge of the street and Jaskier could see the same feeling echoed in his expression - the knowledge that the world was about to change.</p><p>+++</p><p>Jaskier started composing on the road. </p><p>He didn’t know <em> why </em>, but it felt important. </p><p>Maybe not the last song he’d sing, but something about it felt heavy, weighed down with meaning that he wasn’t sure how to put into words. </p><p>He could only try - as he always did.</p><p>He hummed the melody under his breath - they rode at too steady of a quick pace to really try to play the lute while they traveled. </p><p>But that night as they settled around the campfire, he plucked at the strings, brows furrowed. </p><p>Soft murmured words under his breath, tipping his head a bit as he watched the fire lick at the darkness. </p><p>A presence settled beside him, their shoulders almost brushing, and Jaskier’s throat felt tight. </p><p>The witcher’s wide hand settled on his lower back and Jaskier closed his eyes, took a breath - </p><p>“<em> Burnt wood has bared witness to many songs sung - warmed up the hands and the hearts of the young… </em>” Jaskier sang a bit louder, fingers dancing over the lute, voice low and gentle. </p><p>“<em> And the old gather round ‘til the flames are all done, passing down their words of wisdom… </em>” The hand on his lower back swept up to press between his shoulder blades and he sighed out shakily, humming for a few moments, the words not quite coming to him just yet. </p><p>“Well.” Jaskier murmured, and opened his eyes, turning to look at Geralt. A soft, sad smile tugged at his lips at the sight that met him - the concern the witcher wore. “<em> That’s not to say you lose everything and everyone - hear me out. Take your time and watch the setting sun. Take your hands out of your pockets - feel the water run. Don’t worry about tomorrow and yesterday </em> -” Jaskier leaned to press a kiss to Geralt’s cheek. </p><p>“<em> Is gone </em>.” He turned his attention to the lute, plucking strings in between his strums. Geralt swayed closer, nearly bumping his head against Jaskier’s as they settled in together. </p><p>“<em> Find a beautiful love </em> .” Jaskier crooned, and his gaze back meeting Geralt’s. “ <em> Look straight into their eyes - make sure they know… they’re your morning light </em>.” </p><p>He’d never tire of the soft look the witcher got in quiet moments like this. </p><p>“<em> And that you’ll never let go, ‘till the day that you die. </em> ” Jaskier broke their stare, turning his eyes to the sky instead. “ <em> This here is love… this here is life </em>.” </p><p>Jaskier continued to play, crooning soft noises as Geralt leaned their temples together, taking a moment to sit in their combined company. </p><p>The night was a small eternity.</p><p>+++</p><p>When they arrived at Kaer Morhen, Zofia was the first one out of the gate. </p><p>Jaskier hadn’t even gotten off of Pegasus by the time she reached them. She threw her arms around Jaskier’s middle, clinging to him, fingers curled tight in the fabric of his doublet. </p><p>He sent a startled look towards Geralt, not having expected the reaction. One hand slowly settled on her back, the other petting through her hair. </p><p>“It’s alright, dear.” He soothed, brows furrowed. Ciri came out to greet them as well, Eskel trailing behind with lips pressed into a line of worry. </p><p>Jaskier didn’t like that look. </p><p>“I had a dream.” Zofia’s voice wobbles out of her throat, muffled by his clothes. Jaskier’s fingers twitch, but he didn’t respond other than that - “I just-- I’m glad you’re okay.” She said, and when she pulled back, Jaskier carefully didn’t mention the tears that had welled up in her eyes. Nor did he mention the way that she swiped a couple away subtly, Ciri touching a hand to her back before stepping past the two of them to give Jaskier a hug - and then Geralt one as well. </p><p>Jaskier herded the girls inside, glancing once at Geralt - who met his gaze with the same look of unease. </p><p>“Come now, don’t you want to see your swords?” Jaskier asked, in an attempt to distract them - </p><p>A wet laugh from Zofia and the way her pace picked up answered that question for him. </p><p>+++</p><p>It wasn’t until after they’d all had dinner that Geralt allowed the girls to open the carefully wrapped bundle that had been strapped to the back of Roach’s saddle all the way back to the keep. </p><p>They spread open the cloth over the table in the main hall and Lambert whistled at the sight of the weapons. </p><p>Jaskier had only caught glimpses of the girls’ weapons, but there, nestled in between the two pairs of short swords was a long, thin, deadly looking thing. </p><p>Jaskier’s breath caught and he looked at Geralt in surprise - a slight smile and the witcher nodded towards weapons. </p><p>Zofia brushed her fingers over the flat of her blade, engraved with runes that Jaskier only vaguely knew the meaning of. </p><p>His own sword - silver, he could see more clearly now - gleamed even in the low light of the hall. He reached out to pick it up - perfectly balanced. It was simple. Functional. Beautiful all the same, as Geralt had told him Hattori’s craftsmanship was exquisite.</p><p>He leaned to press a kiss to Geralt’s cheek which earned him a piece of bread bouncing off his chest. He shot a look at Lambert - </p><p>“I don’t care how nice the sword he got you was, not at the dinner table.” Lambert said and then grinned, showing off sharp canines and Jaskier rolled his eyes at the sound of his laughter. </p><p>For a moment, at least, there was an illusion of normalcy. </p><p>Ciri brandished her steel sword and pointed it towards Eskel, to which he lifted a brow. “Don’t bite off more than you can chew.” He advised her and she grinned at him, wiggling the sword a little. </p><p>He stood from his seat and stepped towards her - to which she turned tail and doubled back just for a moment to grab the silver sword as well. She made eye contact with Zofia who scrambled for her swords as well, laughter swelling in the main hall as they fled for the courtyard. </p><p>“Be careful!” Jaskier called after them, huffing as the door clanged. </p><p>He sighed, turning to look at the rest of the table, finding them already watching him. </p><p>“What?” Jaskier asked, bewildered, by the looks, not sure <em> why </em> he was getting them. </p><p>“You know they got it from you.” Vesemir informed from the end of the table, making Jaskier squawk out an offended noise. </p><p>“Now wait a minute--” </p><p>+++</p><p>
  <em> The sky was fire.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The ground was ice.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Blood coated his hands. Who did it belong to? He couldn’t seem to remember. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> A voice in his ear - “You know what you have to do.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> +++ </em>
</p><p>Jaskier woke from another nightmare drenched in sweat and trembling. </p><p>Something sat at the back of his mind, growing larger and clearer by the day. </p><p>Geralt slumbered on, evidently not woken - thankfully. He needed his rest after their travels - the witcher never slept well on the road, especially not when Jaskier was with him. He worried far too much, meditated more often than he slept, and even then it was never a true deep sleep like the one he appeared to be in. The one he only slipped into when he was home.</p><p>Jaskier watched him in the darkness of their room, his eyes following his features. A finger reached out, brushed a few stray strands of evening-snow hair back from his face. </p><p>He finally grew too restless for the bed and he crawled out of it, dressing himself - a plain pair of breeches and a worn undershirt. Where it had once been an offwhite gauzy material, it was now grey with age. He was fairly certain the stains on the sleeve came from blood at some point. </p><p>Jaskier slipped on his boots and carefully pulled open the door to their bedroom only as far as he needed to slip out into the hall, taking a deep breath as a breeze ruffled his sweat damp hair and made him shiver. </p><p>His feet carried him without his mind being made up. </p><p>He ended up in the library, fingers brushing over the backs of the books as he walked through the shelves. </p><p>“I see you can’t sleep either.” The voice came from a bit away. Jaskier hesitated, a bit startled, but then rounded the shelf to see Vesemir standing with a book in hand. He gave the bard a slight smile. </p><p>Jaskier looked at him, searching his face for a few long moments. All the witchers tended to have perpetual bruises under their eyes, but Vesemir’s were dark now, worry lines where his brow furrowed. </p><p>“Vesemir.” Jaskier started, suddenly, and then turned his head away, his gaze raking over the library’s dimly lit shelves. </p><p>Silence reigned for a moment and Jaskier smiled, weight on his shoulders making it small and uncertain. He appreciated the space to think, but-- </p><p>How much should he even tell the others? Geralt would tell them it was the Hunt, he was sure. The question was - how much else? How much… about him?</p><p>He shifted on his feet, swallowing thickly. </p><p>A hand landed on his shoulder, giving it a small squeeze. Jaskier’s eyes prickled quite suddenly and he made a soft noise, surprised by the force of the feeling. He reached up, clutching the witcher’s wrist. </p><p>“It’s the Wild Hunt, you know?” Jaskier asked, voice low. </p><p>“I suspected as much.” Vesemir murmured, frowning now. He gently steered Jaskier towards the chairs towards the back of the library, encouraging him to sit and settling himself down as well. </p><p>The witcher braced his elbows on his knees, leaning forward to watch the bard. </p><p>Jaskier opened his mouth and then closed it for a moment, trying to figure out what to say. Vesemir’s kind eyes were a steady presence through it all.</p><p>And then all that had happened over the past few weeks spilled from his throat. He brushed his hands over his face, through his hair, braced his elbows on his knees as well and hid his face. </p><p>When he finished, Vesemir sat up, evaluating the information he was given. </p><p>“The Wild Hunt are more than specters.” The old witcher said. “They aren’t… always corporeal here. It takes effort to travel between realms.” </p><p>“Realms? Like--” </p><p>“The Conjunction of the Spheres, yes.” Vesemir looked away. “They’re very real. Aen Elle elves. Eredin leads a band of riders - I had a mentor encounter them once, and only once.” </p><p>Vesemir handed the book he’d been holding over. Jaskier took it carefully, peering down at the page that the witcher had opened it to. </p><p>There, scrawled over the page, sketches of armored horses - an elf holding a helmet. The visor was in the shape of a skull. </p><p>Jaskier’s fingers traced it lightly - “Eredin.” </p><p>“Yes.” Vesemir confirmed. “He nearly killed my mentor.” </p><p>“Why?” Jaskier asked, softly. </p><p>“Because he was protecting someone who had Elder Blood.” Vesemir murmured. </p><p>Cold dread washed through Jaskier. </p><p>“Like Ciri.” He whispered and Vesemir nodded a bit, lips pressed into a thin line. </p><p>“You’ve seen some of her powers. It’s believed that those possessing Elder Blood can open portals between the realms once they learn to master their Chaos. With that kind of power and control, they could go anywhere. Lay waste to any realm they want.” Vesemir explained and Jaskier stood, unable to stay still. He dropped the book in his chair and paced a tight circle around the sitting area, arms crossed over his chest. </p><p>“So they want Ciri.” Jaskier started, “But why am I a part of the big picture? I don’t understand.” </p><p>A pause. </p><p>“I don’t know either.” Vesemir leaned back in his seat with a heavy sigh. “I’ve been trying to figure it out, but there is little that I can think of, save for one thing.” </p><p>Jaskier paused in his pacing to turn his gaze on the old witcher. </p><p>“Wickedness’s greatest enemy is love.” The words are tired, but they hold a lifetime of wisdom that Jaskier may never understand. </p><p>“I’ve never met someone, in all my years, that loves like you do, Jaskier.” </p><p>They stare at each other for a long moment and Jaskier can’t even begin to form a thought, scrambled and lost under the brute honesty. </p><p>“I told Geralt this once - where there is life, there is hope.” Vesemir murmured, “But life is <em> lived </em>for love. Of all kinds.” </p><p>Jaskier pressed a hand over his mouth, fingers trembling. </p><p>“Yes.” He said, softly. “Yes, it is.” </p><p>+++</p><p>The threat that something was coming was hanging over all of their heads. </p><p>They all felt it. </p><p>Sparring became the default if not working. </p><p>Jaskier became decent with his sword, but the girls were a force to be reckoned with by the time summer came. </p><p>Back to back, they could fend off all three witchers at once. It was impressive and Jaskier felt pride swell in his chest every time - though the grief for <em> why </em> they needed to be so good always followed. </p><p>Jaskier’s nightmares were getting worse as the season dragged on, but there was little he could do about it. </p><p>Whatever was coming would arrive when it arrived. </p><p>And then - </p><p>One night - </p><p>+++</p><p>
  <em> Flecks of ash floated down from the sky.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Something was on fire - it glowed, back lighting the whole scene before him.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Zofia, Ciri, Vesemir, Geralt, Lambert, and Eskel stood before him, all smeared with dirt and soot.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> On their chests, spots of blood that grew around arrows embedded in each of their chests.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “No.” Jaskier was screaming, “No, no--”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> A gasp, and they were fine - still dirtied, but not bloodied.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Jaskier glanced down, finding his outstretched hands now wrapped around the six arrows.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You know what you have to do.” The voice came from behind him and Jaskier whipped around.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> There’s a moment - shouldn’t he wake up? This is when he usually woke up.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> This was a dream.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He sucked in a harsh breath at the sight before him.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Jaskier had never seen a living unicorn before, but it became quite clear that the quote on quote taxidermy that existed of them had all been horses with fake horns glued to their foreheads.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The creature before him was far more elegant than a horse or a deer could ever hope to be.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It had a long neck, arched, with a small equine head peering at him. From its forehead sprouted a horn - long and spiraled, thinning out to a deadly point. Lithe legs, feathered - and a lion’s tail.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It was black, which made the scars it was absolutely covered in only stand out more.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Around its neck lay a thick silver chain, engraved with things that Jaskier couldn’t quite make out.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You know what you have to do.” The unicorn spoke again, though its mouth did not move.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It delicately picked its way across the muddied ground, seeming almost to float towards him.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I will forgive you for it.” It told him, stopping right in front of him.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Jaskier’s hands trembled -  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And Gods help him, he did know.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> His hands were bloodied, but when he reached for the unicorn, it lowered its head to nuzzle into them anyway.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Will you forgive me?” It asked, sounding so strangely vulnerable.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Jaskier cupped the equine cheeks, looking into deep blue eyes.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Yes.” He said, softly, and smiled though it was full of sorrow, feeling tears roll down his cheeks.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Thank you.” It closes its eyes, lifting its head from his hands. The unicorn stepped closer, hooked its chin over his shoulder, and Jaskier, after a moment, wrapped his arms around its neck in a hug.  </em>
</p><p>+++</p><p>Jaskier woke weeping.</p><p>He told no one. </p><p>+++</p><p>There was no warning when it finally came. </p><p>The day before had been peaceful. </p><p>They’d had venison for dinner. </p><p>Jaskier had taught Zofia a new raunchy song and Lambert had laughed, joining in and purposefully singing badly which got him a bit of carrot launched across the table at him from Geralt. </p><p>The afternoon was sweltering. </p><p>Jaskier felt a bit like crawling out of clothes, watching Ciri and Zofia half spar, half joke across the courtyard. </p><p>And then, the sound of a sudden wind - the air that only a moment ago was suffocating was now <em> freezing </em>. </p><p>Jaskier grabbed his sword from where it had been laying near where he’d lazed, launching to his feet, crossing the courtyard in seconds. He grabbed Ciri’s shoulder - </p><p>“You listen to me.” He said, urgently, and the sound of shouts began to filter through, the clinking of armor, the sound of hoofbeats. </p><p>He did not look away from the girls. “Take care of each other. Worry only about each other. Do you hear me?” They looked at him with wide eyes, finally giving slightly jerky nods. </p><p>“Go.” He said, nodding towards the keep. </p><p>“Get the others.” They turned, running towards the doors - </p><p>“Where is the bard?” Came the voice - low and metallic, sending shivers down Jaskier’s back. Around the corner, entering the courtyard, rode a <em> huge </em> armored horse, with a rider of equally proportionate stature on its back. </p><p>Both were so armored that Jaskier couldn’t see their faces, but he recognized the skull visor. </p><p>Behind him came more riders, what looked like barghests made from the ice itself darting around the horses legs. Frost spread over the ground, creeping towards him. </p><p>Jaskier lifted his sword, holding it at the ready. </p><p>“Ah.” Eredin rumbled, sounding pleased. “How good of you to greet us.” </p><p>And <em> there </em>, stumbling in after the line of riders, the unicorn he had seen in his dream. The chains he could see now were covered in elder runes, though he could not take the time to translate them in that moment. </p><p>Jaskier’s hold on the sword hilt flexed and he adjusted himself a bit. </p><p>“Good, a few moments, then.” Eredin dismounted his horse, standing beside it and patting the armored neck. </p><p>“I have been watching you, bard. And I know you.” Eredin stepped forward. </p><p>Jaskier did not back down, craned his head a little to meet his gaze. </p><p>“If I do not kill you here and now, you will hunt us. I’d be inclined to think you would not succeed, but I have seen the impact you have. It is… odd. I do not understand it.” Eredin cocked his head and it was animalistic. </p><p>“It would be annoying. And likely cause me casualties that I will not allow myself to lose.” The elf dipped his head a bit. </p><p>“In saying that, I will give you a choice. Join us and you may see your precious Ciri. We may even allow your witchers to live.” Eredin rumbled and Jaskier felt surprise lance through him - </p><p>He had not expected it at all and even his moment of hesitation seemed to make Eredin pleased. </p><p>“What do you say, bardling?” </p><p>This time, his hesitation was gone. </p><p>“No.” He said, and knew that what he had doomed them to was a battle that might not allow the others to emerge unscathed. </p><p>“You’re certain?” Eredin almost mocked and Jaskier squared his shoulders. </p><p>“I will not join you.” Jaskier repeated, firmly, and behind him the doors of the keep burst open with a clang. </p><p>Immediately, the hounds wailed to the sky and launched themselves at the witchers. </p><p>“You’ve made a terrible mistake.” The elf said, and lifted his sword. </p><p>+++</p><p>The battle was madness. </p><p>Jaskier could not keep track of anyone - there was one thing he had his sights set on and all he could do was fight his way towards it. </p><p>The witchers were using their signs - bursts of igni worked well to drive the hounds back and keep them from Zofia and Ciri, but they set things alight. Wood dummies and training courses were burning, Kaer Morhen’s courtyard going up in flames. </p><p>Jaskier clashed swords with Eredin - and it became quickly clear that he was no match for the elf’s sword skills. </p><p>It wasn’t a surprise, but it still made him desperate. </p><p>Any time he got out of reach of Eredin, he was set upon by another elf and although he had been training, Jaskier was growing tired quickly. </p><p>It was that desperation that made him scream out for Geralt when Eredin turned on him at the same time another elf passed him, cornering him. </p><p>In moments, Geralt had crossed the space between them, not even looking as he beheaded one of the hounds on the way. </p><p>Geralt’s sword clashed with Eredin’s just before it came down on Jaskier’s back. </p><p>Jaskier cried out a wordless sound of thanks and relief, pushing back on the elf that was fighting him, turning his attention to the fight and trusting Geralt to have his back. </p><p>Eredin was speaking, but he could not focus enough to listen, not when he saw an opening - if he could just get <em> away </em> from the elf in front of him. </p><p>Jaskier took a risk. </p><p>He ducked, lunged, sliced the elf’s side. He rolled forward and avoided a stab in the back. A stumble, nearly falling, but regaining his feet and making a beeline for the unicorn chained to one of the rider’s horses. </p><p>Geralt grunted and then screamed behind him - Jaskier’s eyes stung, but he could not look back. </p><p>Not now. </p><p>The sound of heavy footsteps behind him. </p><p>Jaskier’s swordpoint hit the unicorn’s neck at the same time a swordpoint pressed solidly to his own back. </p><p>Jaskier’s hand flexed around the hilt of his sword once more. The battle around them had faded away, his eyes locked on the blue ones that met his own. </p><p>His panting was loud in his ears and his back prickled, point pressed to it hard enough that pain rang through his nerves. The feeling of liquid running down the dip of his back - sweat and blood. </p><p>“Think this through, bard.” The voice behind him rumbled.</p><p>Jaskier’s swordpoint rested against the unicorn’s neck, skin sizzling softly beneath it. </p><p>
  <em> We die - or they do. You know this. </em>
</p><p>The voice curled around his mind and Jaskier took in a shuddering breath, swallowing, stomach rolling at the taste of dirt and salt and copper. </p><p>
  <em> Kill me. Close the portal. Now.  </em>
</p><p>A pause, only a moment of hesitation.</p><p>
  <em> Please. </em>
</p><p>Jaskier closed his eyes, avoided that gaze. He sent out a silent sorry that he hoped reached those it needed to - and a small plea, lost to the battle and to time and to all the rest. </p><p>Jaskier opened his eyes, set his jaw, and <em> lunged </em>. </p><p>The unicorn squealed, sword slicing through its neck. The point of the sword at his back slipped straight through him. Jaskier gurgled, blood spattering his lips. </p><p>Agony made his ears ring and he dropped his sword, both hands closing around the sword that protruded from his chest. His gaze went fuzzy and black around the edges, but he turned his head, letting it fall back limply. </p><p>“You lost.” Jaskier grinned, teeth bloody, eyes triumphant as he wheezed and gurgled out another ugly sound. </p><p>The world swam around him. </p><p>Thunder cracked - the sounds of portals snapping shut, displacing the air. </p><p>Jaskier blinked languidly. </p><p>“You were right.” He choked - “To be scared of me.” He coughed, spat blood, head lolling against his shoulders as Eredin shoved the blade forward, stepped right up against his back. </p><p>Jaskier <em> screamed </em>. </p><p>“Confident to be dying, bardling.” The voice shook his bones and his eyes rolled, struggling to cling to consciousness, gasping out breaths that never quite filled his lungs. </p><p>Another crack. </p><p>The soft snapping of magic, air displaced once more. </p><p>Jaskier could not find enough breath to speak. Instead, he smiled serenely, lifting a bloodied hand from the sword in his chest, pointing shakily just over Eredin’s shoulder - </p><p>The King of the Wild Hunt died staring into unnaturally bright green eyes. </p><p>His body remained standing for a few moments, giving Jaskier time to brace for the fall, crumpling with him to the ice covered dirt. </p><p>Jaskier’s mind had already met darkness before his body met the ground. </p><p>They would be safe. </p><p>He could rest.</p><p>+++</p><p>Jaskier did not think he would wake up. </p><p>Maybe that was why he was so confused when his mind came to, registering only pain. </p><p>It was all encompassing and for a moment he wished he could go right back under. </p><p>A hand was grasping his own desperately and it was the only reason he forced his eyes open. </p><p>It was hard to breathe - he never felt like he could get one deep enough to relieve the feeling of suffocating. </p><p>“Jaskier.” Geralt’s voice broke his heart and he squeezed the hand in his own weakly. </p><p>Vaguely, he was aware that he was no longer on the ground. </p><p>“Ger-alt?” It took so much effort just to say those words and he wheezed, eyes falling shut once more. </p><p>“Shh.” Geralt murmured, pressing his lips to the back of Jaskier’s hand. “Save your strength.” </p><p>Jaskier’s body agreed with him as he was sent right back to the darkness after a few more struggling breaths. </p><p>+++</p><p>The night time he woke, it was to a dark room. </p><p>He still couldn’t breathe quite right, but the pain was a bit more manageable. </p><p>Awful. Right on the forefront, but not unbearable. </p><p>He slowly pushed himself up onto his elbow, brows drawing together in confusion. </p><p>“Geralt.” He rasped, and then wheezed. </p><p>Across the room the witcher stirred slowly, golden eyes flashing in the dark. He was up on his feet and next to the bed in less than a couple of seconds. Jaskier’s head hurt trying to follow him and he blinked a few times. </p><p>“Fuck.” He breathed in. It caught somewhere in his chest and then he was <em> coughing </em>. </p><p>It was a fit that lasted nearly a minute until he tired himself out, slumped to the pillows as Geralt petted through his hair. </p><p>“You’ve got to be more careful, Jaskier.” Geralt rumbled, cupped his cheek, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. </p><p>“What--” A few short breaths. “What happened?” </p><p>“You closed the portal. With nowhere to go, we were able to kill the riders. Lambert has a new scar. I had some… rib issues.” Geralt leaned back to look at him. </p><p>“You… you’re the worst off.” Geralt murmured, his brows drawing together. “You’re--” </p><p>“I know.” Jaskier breathed, closing his eyes. “Should’ve-- should’ve died.” </p><p>Geralt made a pained noise. “Jaskier.” He said and it held more despair than Jaskier thought a voice ever could. He made a low, weak noise in response. </p><p>“S’okay. Had-- had to be that way.” Jaskier smiled a wobbly sort of thing and then winced. </p><p>“Vesemir says… it’s-- he’s not seen anything like it before. It’s… almost like the way Chaos will drain a sorceress if they can’t pull from something else.” Geralt explained and he sounded helpless when he added, “But it’s <em> slow </em>.” </p><p>Jaskier hummed an acknowledgement. </p><p>“How long will I have?” He wheezed. </p><p>Geralt leaned to press their foreheads together. </p><p>Jaskier closed his eyes, but could not escape the feeling of the tears dripping onto his face. </p><p>“I don’t know.” Geralt whispered. </p><p>+++</p><p>Jaskier’s wound never quite closed. </p><p>It oozed constantly, a dark ichor that seeped through bandages over the course of the day. </p><p>He couldn’t leave the bed most days, but on the days he <em> did </em> manage to get to his feet, Geralt helped him to the hall where he would often take his dinner and watch the members of the keep. </p><p>They were all sad, beyond what Jaskier can do to help. </p><p>Still, on one of his better days, he got Zofia to bring him his lute - since Geralt would have fussed at him for trying to heft it on his own. </p><p>“What good am I if I cannot play?” Jaskier breathed, voice low and quiet. </p><p>It was the only way he could get full sentences out. </p><p>Jaskier leaned against Geralt’s side as his fingers plucked at the strings, slowly weaving a tune. </p><p>“Ciri.” Jaskier whispered, wheezing a bit. She immediately stood, coming to stand beside him, leaning down to hear him. </p><p>As he played, he murmured in her ear. </p><p>She looked at him, green eyes deep and sad in a way that they shouldn’t be. Even still, she gave him a small smile. </p><p>“Go.” She murmured, and settled by him, listening to the melody and the words he was attempting to sing in her ear. </p><p>They were more breathed, but Jaskier found that her interpretation was even better than the original inflection he’d intended. </p><p>They’d doubtlessly all heard them with their witcher-y hearing, Geralt tense at his side. </p><p>“<em> All my life, I been running towards the fight </em> .” Ciri crooned, and Jaskier <em> smiled </em>. It was one of the first ones since the battle. </p><p>“<em> Oh Gods, when I die make my life a lullaby. </em>” Ciri met Zofia’s gaze over the table. Jaskier followed the look and found her eyes welling with tears. Jaskier looked back to Ciri hurriedly, hoping the rest of the lyrics might make them understand. </p><p>“<em> ‘Till that long goodnight, keep my fire burning like a star. </em> ” Ciri looked past him, met Geralt’s eyes. “ <em> I’m not afraid of the dark. </em>”</p><p>“<em> Staring at this stone-cut ceiling, wondering how to break it down. If it’s falling, will I feel it? </em>” Ciri turned her gaze back on him and slowly, he felt Geralt’s hand creep down to brush lightly over his lower back. </p><p>It made him ache and Jaskier relished it for just a moment - the ache was an anchor. </p><p>“<em> If it doesn’t, will I drown?” </em>Ciri raised her voice and then, to Jaskier’s surprise, when she started on the chorus again, another voice joined her. </p><p>“<em> All my life I been running towards the fight </em>.” Zofia and Ciri harmonized the best they could and Jaskier’s cheeks hurt with the force of his grin. </p><p>+++</p><p>Jaskier’s good days were spent composing with Zofia and Ciri. </p><p>Sometimes he would spend full days with Geralt, too, sitting in silence, or speaking in low voices of things passed. </p><p>Neither could bring themselves to speak of what was to come. </p><p>+++</p><p>Jaskier managed to convince Geralt to take him out to the stables on a good day. </p><p>It was a hobbling walk there and he was utterly drained when they made it. </p><p>He had to spend a few minutes sitting, the crisp air of autumn making it even harder on his breathing. </p><p>When he thought he had himself under control, he gestured for Geralt to help him over to Roach. </p><p>It was there that he pet her soft nose. </p><p>“I’ll miss you, old girl.” He breathed and pressed a kiss to her forehead. </p><p>Sensing his pain, she stood still, blinking at him. He wondered if she understood. </p><p>“I know. Zofia will sneak you some sugar cubes, too. I’ll make sure she knows that Pegasus can’t get all the spoiling.” He brushed his fingers over the mare’s cheek. </p><p>He turned, then, and shuffled over to where Pegasus was stabled.</p><p>The gelding eyed him warily from the back of the stall. </p><p>A soft whicker and Jaskier put his hand on the stall door. </p><p>“It’s okay.” Jaskier whispered and wheezed. A soft cough. His eyes watered as he fought a few back, swallowing thickly. “I know you’re just upset.” </p><p>He smiled, but it was wrapped in something close to misery. </p><p>“I’ll miss you, too.” The horse extended his neck, but would not take a step closer to the stall door. </p><p>“I understand. Saying goodbye is the hardest part. We can say see you later, if it makes you feel better.” </p><p>Beside him, the soft sound of a sharp inhale made him glance at Geralt. </p><p>He tipped his head just a bit at the sight of the tears. </p><p>“Oh, <em> my darling </em>.” He reached for him and the witcher came, wrapping Jaskier in his arms as gently as he could. </p><p>+++</p><p> </p><p>-+-</p><p> </p><p>+++</p><p>It was one of the bad nights - </p><p>Jaskier’s breath rattled in his chest - </p><p>“What will you do when I am gone?” The bard’s voice creaked up out of his throat, a whisper in the darkness of their room. </p><p>Geralt could not bring himself to answer, could not find his voice wherever it had chosen to flee to. </p><p>“I think you ought to take Pegasus on the road - he’s not meant for fences.” His breath caught and Jaskier tensed, forcing himself to work through it. He wheezed and Geralt trembled. </p><p>“Stop talking.” He begged Jaskier, voice a small thing. </p><p>“You know that’s impossible, love.” Jaskier’s laugh was choked, shudders running through him. He gasped for a few moments, struggling to regain air. </p><p>“Jaskier, I can’t do this -” Geralt rasped, because it was too much, it was too heavy a weight to think, too damning - a world without Jaskier, a world without his light and his music and his joy and his <em> love </em></p><p>“You can.” Jaskier breathed, softly. “You can. And you will. The girls will need you always. They need me, but there is only so far this body will go.” He tipped his head to rest his forehead against Geralt’s neck - it afforded the witcher the privacy to weep. </p><p>“You shouldn’t have done this, you should have let <em> me </em>--” Geralt’s voice was low and thick and rough and Jaskier moved a shaking hand to press it over one of the arms wrapped around him. </p><p>“You know that’s not true.” Jaskier rasped, softly, and squeezed Geralt’s arm the best he could, despite how weak his hands were these days. “Promise me something?” </p><p>“What?” Geralt’s voice came rough, forced out past the lump in his throat. </p><p>“There will be singing after me. And laughter. Joy, too.” Jaskier murmured, voice faint. </p><p>Silence. </p><p>“Geralt, there is so much life to be had. Tell me, <em> please </em>. Even if you think there won’t. Tell me there will be singing.” He breathed, wheezed - </p><p>“Yes.” Geralt choked, “Yes, there will be singing. And-- and laughter.” He couldn’t get the rest out, fighting with his own body, eyes prickling. </p><p>Jaskier hummed and that, for now, was enough as the other’s breathing eased into that slow whistling wheeze that indicated he was unconscious. </p><p>Geralt cradled him closer, hands petting over him as if he could somehow <em> fix </em> this. </p><p>He couldn’t, of course.</p><p>Destiny had never been <em> that </em> kind to him. </p><p>+++</p><p>Jaskier did not wake in the morning.</p><p>+++</p><p>On the second day that Jaskier did not wake, Geralt decided to do what he had not wanted to. </p><p>It was a last resort - probably hopeless, Vesemir had told him. </p><p>This kind of Chaos was not something even sorceresses - no matter how powerful - could reverse. </p><p>Still, in the early hours of morning, Geralt tacked up Roach and took to the road. </p><p>He did not look back. </p><p>If he did, he would never have made it past the keep’s gate. </p><p>+++</p><p>Without their Djinn ties, it was going to be hard to find Yennefer. </p><p>Not impossible, though. </p><p>Especially not with what motivated him in that moment. </p><p>In the end, it took four days with no sleep. </p><p>The amount of people he’d snarled at, the clues he’d followed, the rumors-- </p><p>None of it prepared him to stand, exhausted, in front of a small house on the far outskirts of Oxenfurt. </p><p>A boy ran past him at full tilt, laughing brightly with a lizard clutched in his hand. He had dark hair and his eyes - for a moment the dark blue read indigo, reminds him of the purple eyes-- </p><p>Eyes that he was suddenly face to face with as the door opened, a sharp voice - “What did I <em> tell </em> you about that? Don’t--” </p><p>She drew up short, shocked. </p><p>Yennefer was more open than he remembered her and for a moment they simply stared at each other. </p><p>“Geralt.” She said, finally, quietly. </p><p>Something around her eyes went soft. </p><p>She stepped aside. “Come in. Brenner!” She added, “Put the little beast down and get inside.” </p><p>The boy complained, but Geralt could not take his eyes off of her. She was more relaxed than he had ever seen her, hair down in loose waves, wearing a white top tucked into a simple black skirt. </p><p>Geralt stepped into the house and pressed himself up against one wall, leaning there to be out of the way as she herded the boy to what he presumed was the washroom. </p><p>She returned, tucking her hair behind her ear. </p><p>“What happened?” Yennefer asked and Geralt found his eyes welling up despite himself. He swallowed a couple of times and Yennefer’s eyes widened. </p><p>“Don’t tell me -” She started and Geralt shook his head. </p><p>“I’m sorry.” He blurted softly and to his surprise the sorceress <em> laughed </em> softly, tossing her head. </p><p>“Oh, I <em> knew </em> that, Geralt. If <em> that’s </em> what you came here for -” </p><p>“No.” Geralt murmured, and his voice was thick, rough. “No, it’s-- it’s Jaskier.” </p><p>She pursed her lips and then gestured at a table. “Sit. Tell me what you know.” She murmured and went to grab a bottle, pouring them both a glass-- of something.</p><p>+++</p><p>“I’m sorry, Geralt.” Yennefer murmured, searching his face. She reached out and Geralt, on instinct, flinched. He settled when her hand landed over his own, giving it a squeeze. </p><p>She did genuinely look apologetic and Geralt’s heart ached. </p><p>“I can’t help you.” She shook her head. “The best I can do is to tell you to pray to a God, or Goddess, you believe in that it’s not more painful than it already has been.” </p><p>Geralt made a broken sound. He held onto her hand for dear life - he knew it must be painful, but she did not complain nor did she pull away. </p><p>“I don’t believe in them.” Geralt rasped, and Yennefer laughed, her voice a bit thick with emotion. </p><p>“Neither do I. But maybe <em> he </em> does. It’s for him is it not?” </p><p>Geralt nodded weakly. </p><p>“Perhaps, just maybe, they will be kind to him if you do so then.” She tipped her head, searching his exhausted face. “Stay with us tonight. Go back to him first thing in the morning.” </p><p>Geralt wanted to take her up on her offer, but he shook his head. “Just let me meditate a couple of hours. I need to go back as soon as possible.” </p><p>She stared at him for a long moment and parted her lips as if she might argue. In the end, she simply gave a small nod. </p><p>+++</p><p>Zofia sobbed on his return. </p><p>+++</p><p>Jaskier looked as if he was barely breathing at all. The only way Geralt could tell was if he put his hand close to his mouth and nose. </p><p>Geralt meditated for short bursts. </p><p>Every time he did, he was afraid that Jaskier would be gone when he woke. </p><p>+++</p><p>Jaskier’s death was largely unremarkable. </p><p>Geralt woke from a meditative state to find Jaskier’s breathing stilted, deep and half coughs. His eyes moved wildly behind his eyelids and he twitched now and then. </p><p>Immediately, Geralt was climbing onto the bed. </p><p>The wound didn’t mean much now and he bundled Jaskier into his arms as the breath stuttered. </p><p><em> Please </em> , he begged, <em> please, if there is anything after, let it be beautiful. For him let it be beautiful </em>. </p><p>Geralt buried his nose into Jaskier’s hair, fingers curling in the fabric of his clothes until they were white knuckle - as if he could, by sheer force of will, hang onto him. </p><p>“I love you.” His choppy words made him aware of his crying, his trembling. “I love you.” He whispered, over and over, long after the stuttered breathing had halted entirely. </p><p>By the time he’d lost his voice, Jaskier had grown cold. </p><p>It was only when Eskel came to bring Geralt his dinner that someone knew. </p><p>The bowl of stew clattered to the ground and Geralt found his back blanketed by his brother as he <em> keened </em>. </p><p>It was strained, a wordless near wail, Eskel shushing him and wrapping his arms around Geralt’s shoulders. </p><p>“Let him go.” Eskel murmured, “Let him go. You’ve got to let him go.” </p><p>“No.” Geralt rasped, voice wrecked, “No, no--” </p><p>A second pair of arms - a third - pulled him away. </p><p>His sobbing was joined by another, Zofia plastering herself up against his front - on instinct he wrapped his arms around her, clung to her, shuffled Ciri into the circle when she pressed up against Zofia. </p><p>Jaskier remained still and so, so quiet on the bed. </p><p>He closed his eyes tight so that he did not have to see Vesemir wrap him in the sheet, so that he did not have to see him take Jaskier away. </p><p>+++</p><p>They burned Jaskier on a cold, crisp winter evening. </p><p>It was nearly fitting. </p><p>Even in his very last moments of being present with them, he provided warmth and light. </p><p>Geralt watched the fire with a clenched jaw and eyes that stung. </p><p>Lambert stood with a hand on Zofia’s shoulder, white knuckled - enough that it must ache. Zofia only stared vacantly at the fire, as if she did not really see the scene in front of her. </p><p>Ciri was tucked under his arm, face buried in his shoulder, hiding from the orange glow. </p><p>Eskel held a book in his hands, one that Geralt didn’t recognize. He didn’t ask what it was, not even as he tossed the book onto the pyre, jaw set. </p><p>The world grows more blurry around him and he had too close his eyes just for a moment - the inside of them painted red from the light before him. </p><p>Ciri slipped from under his arm. </p><p>Distantly he could hear her steps carry her to Lambert and Zofia. They walked away together and there was a grunt as Lambert kicked his boot against the dirt. He cursed softly and turned away as well, patting Eskel’s shoulder as he passed. </p><p>Geralt opened his eyes, cheeks burning from the heat of tears - angry red streaks down his cheeks. </p><p>The hand on his shoulder made him aware of his trembling. </p><p>“You don’t need to watch this, boy.” Vesemir murmured, voice low and rough with emotion. </p><p>Geralt shook his head, “I do.” His voice was desperate. He could hear it, but not control it. “I do.” </p><p>“You <em> don’t </em> .” Vesemir pulled him into his arms and Geralt was again, a young and lost and <em> hurt </em> boy. </p><p>He broke gently. </p><p>It was a small crack, a gasp, a tremble - before he could begin to think to stop it, he was sobbing. It was a full body thing, noises he couldn’t recognize coming from himself. </p><p>Vesemir nodded and suddenly there was another set of arms, Eskel helping the old witcher lead him away to the keep. </p><p>The three of them stumbled inside and suddenly Geralt was surrounded on all sides. </p><p>The arms were the only reason he didn’t entirely shatter to pieces, disappear. </p><p>+++</p><p>Geralt slept. </p><p>Time didn’t mean anything.</p><p>+++</p><p>The snows were just melting when Zofia knocked on the door. </p><p>“You need to come see this.” She said, and Geralt stared at her listlessly. For a long moment he thought to refuse her, but-- </p><p>He pushed himself out of the bed, got dressed, pulled on his boots. He tucked his hair behind his ears and stepped out of the room, following Zofia quietly out of the keep and down a path he had avoided for weeks now. </p><p>Geralt wasn’t sure he could take it. </p><p>He stopped mid-step, staring at Zofia’s back. It took her a few steps for her to realize that he was no longer at her side. She paused, turning to look back at him. </p><p>Silence. </p><p>Their gazes met. </p><p>“Trust me.” She said, and Geralt swallowed because in that moment she reminded him so much of blue eyes of-- </p><p>Geralt inhaled, clenched his jaw, and focused on putting one foot in front of the other. </p><p>They reach the place where they’d held Jaskier’s funeral and Geralt can’t <em> breathe </em>. </p><p>There, sprouting up the ground, curling towards the sky - </p><p>Pink-lilac flowers, blooming in bright spots, so <em> alive </em>. </p><p>Baker’s globe mallow, Geralt’s mind provided him, flowers that followed a fire. </p><p>“Oh.” He said, and it creaked from his throat rough and torn. </p><p>There were more tears - Geralt wondered if he had ever stopped after the night they burned him - but there was also a small smile as well. </p><p><em> Of course </em>. </p><p>+++</p><p>Eskel started making preparations to leave Kaer Morhen two weeks into spring. </p><p>He was the first to leave the year after Jaskier’s death and Geralt could not wait to ask him any longer. </p><p>It had been sitting at the back of his throat since he’d finally dragged himself from his bed. </p><p>“What was in the book?” He asked Eskel one evening, while they watched Lambert spar with the girls in the courtyard. </p><p>Eskel stayed quiet for a few minutes, finally turning to look at Geralt. </p><p>“Poetry.” He answered the question slowly, searching Geralt’s face. </p><p>Geralt felt a moment of blazing anger that then turned into something sad and unfathomably heavy. </p><p>“His?” Geralt asked. </p><p>“No.” Eskel said, paused. “Yes. One. The rest were mine.” </p><p>The surprise must have shown on Geralt’s face because for just a moment Eskel smiled. “I’m not saying they were good.” He murmured and Geralt puffed out something close to a laugh - though it didn’t reach his eyes. </p><p>“He gave me the notebook for Yule. Said he wasn’t going to need it anymore.” Eskel’s voice was a little thick. “Said he’d only used it <em> lightly </em>.” He gestured with his hand slightly and grit his teeth, turning his gaze back to the courtyard. </p><p>There was quiet for a few moments. </p><p>“Will you tell me the poem?” Geralt asked, finally, despite the way his ribs felt like they were caving in, the way it felt hard to breathe again. He blinked a few times. </p><p>Eskel shook his head, lips pressed together. Grief filled his eyes and Geralt had to look away from him as well. </p><p>“Not now.” Eskel told him, and Geralt nodded a bit. </p><p>+++</p><p>Eskel left a week later. </p><p>Geralt went to bed that night and found a piece of parchment - torn and frayed on the left side, slightly bent from being folded for a long time - that had been pushed under his door. </p><p>There, scrawled in familiar handwriting that made Geralt’s breath catch, a poem. </p><p>
  <em> My work is loving the world. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Here the sunflowers, there the hummingbird— </em>
</p><p>
  <em> equal seekers of sweetness. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Here the quickening yeast; there the blue plums. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Here the clam deep in the speckled sand. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Are my boots old? Is my coat torn? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Am I no longer young, and still half-perfect? Let me </em>
</p><p>
  <em> keep my mind on what matters, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> which is my work, </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> which is mostly standing still and learning to be </em>
</p><p>
  <em> astonished. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The phoebe, the delphinium. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The sheep in the pasture, and the pasture. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Which is mostly rejoicing, since all the ingredients are here, </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> which is gratitude, to be given a mind and a heart </em>
</p><p>
  <em> and these body-clothes, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> a mouth with which to give shouts of joy </em>
</p><p>
  <em> to the moth and the wren, to the sleepy dug-up clam, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> telling them all, over and over, how it is </em>
</p><p>
  <em> that we live forever. </em>
</p><p>Geralt held the paper and cried. </p><p>And cried. </p><p>And.</p><p>Cried. </p><p>+++</p><p>“I want to be a witcher.” Zofia said simply over her dinner as if the simple statement wouldn’t make the entire world drop out from beneath Geralt. </p><p>“No.” He growled immediately, to which Vesemir sighed. </p><p>“Even if we had the means to do that - which we don’t - there would be no guarantee you’d survive, and the current formula would destroy a woman.” Vesemir told her, although his voice was gentle. </p><p>“I’ve survived every fucking thing else.” She said, and lifted her chin. </p><p>“No.” Geralt said again, firmly. </p><p>“I don’t want to leave you.” Zofia’s nonchalance broke a bit, swallowing thickly, gripping her spoon hard enough to make her knuckles white. </p><p>Ciri, who had been watching the whole thing, finally spoke up quietly. </p><p>“Lambert said he used to have a friend from a School that made women into witchers. Why can’t we… change the formula?” She asked, and looked at Vesemir. </p><p>Geralt felt like he might scream. </p><p>“It would be beyond risky.” Vesemir told her, “The chances that Zofia would survive would be… very small. It wouldn’t be worth risking.You can fight alongside Ciri as a human.” He addressed the last part directly to the girl and she glared at the old witcher. </p><p>“Maybe I should just ask Lambert, then.” Zofia muttered, “Since his friend clearly knew something you don’t.” </p><p>Geralt shoved his chair back, the wood scraping loudly against the floor. </p><p>“I said <em> no </em> and that’s <em> final </em>, Zofia.” He snapped, and turned on his heel to leave the hall, slamming the door to the rest of the keep behind him. </p><p>+++</p><p>Kaer Morhen was too quiet to bear come summer. </p><p>Geralt <em> had </em> to go. </p><p>He begged Vesemir to take care of the girls and the old witcher had given him a sympathetic look and a nod. </p><p>Zofia had refused to speak to him when he went. </p><p>“I’m sorry.” Ciri had apologized for her. </p><p>Geralt had to leave without saying goodbye - in some ways, it was good. It was motivation to come back come winter. </p><p>+++</p><p>The Path felt haunted. </p><p>Every town had a reminder. </p><p>+++</p><p>Geralt went to the only place he could not remember them ever going. </p><p>It was a tiny town outside of Toussaint - tucked up against the coast. </p><p>Jaskier would have loved it, Geralt thought, perched in the dunes as he watched the waves lap at the coast. Beside him, Roach nosed at his shoulder. </p><p>“I know.” He said, softly, and stood. </p><p>Slowly, methodically, he shed his armor. </p><p>He untacked Roach, then, haltering her and leading her gently towards the water. </p><p>Geralt had never taken her this close to the water - she’d always seen the ocean, but never been close enough to feel the waves. </p><p>She danced a little as they got closer and Geralt gave her some slack to approach at her own pace. </p><p>Roach tossed her head, sniffing at the air and whickering softly. </p><p>“It’s alright, girl. Just water.” Geralt murmured, and patted her neck. “Just like rivers.” </p><p>Geralt stayed still when the waves licked at the sand, washed over his feet and brushed her hooves. Roach snorted, tossing her head again, before venturing forward. </p><p>She got up to her knees and then she pawed at the water, kicking up a splash and <em> soaking </em> Geralt. </p><p>There was a moment of shocked silence and then Geralt puffed an incredulous breath. </p><p>Roach whinnied. </p><p>Geralt <em> laughed </em> . It was sudden and loud and he couldn’t stop it, found after a moment relief in the fact that he still <em> could </em>. </p><p>+++</p><p>Zofia had grown while he was away and came to his chest when she hugged him tight enough to wind him a bit. </p><p>“I’m sorry.” She said, voice thick. </p><p>“I know.” Geralt had said, petting her hair. </p><p>+++</p><p>Two weeks after the first snow, Lambert arrived. </p><p>He was the last and he fended off the silent concern with glares and prickliness. </p><p>Somehow, though, he and Zofia seemed to get along best - both getting out their anger by sparring until they both couldn’t stand, exhausted. </p><p>It was in that way that Geralt suspected that they teamed up against him, or at least Lambert learned of the situation. </p><p>“Why won’t you at least let her do some research? She’s going to do it behind your back if you don’t let her.” Lambert muttered, having cornered him in a corner of the keep while Geralt was on the way to the courtyard to do some training with Ciri. </p><p>He’d been alone on his way there, thank the Gods, else he might have truly lost his temper with Lambert immediately. </p><p>“Because she isn’t going to suffer through that.” Geralt snarled, quietly, incredulous, looking at Lambert as if he’d lost his mind. </p><p>Maybe he had a bit. </p><p>“Has she not already suffered the worst?” Lambert asked, severely. “Is it not her choice?” </p><p>Geralt snorted, “No - she doesn’t know what she’s truly asking for.” </p><p>“Then <em> tell her </em> and let her make that decision, Geralt. As afraid of losing her as you might be, it’s still her fucking choice.” Lambert growled. </p><p>“Why are you campaigning for this?” Geralt asked, truly bewildered. “I thought you hated being a witcher.” It tripped from his mouth and he knew he should not have said it, but it was <em> true </em>. Lambert was perpetually angry at Vesemir, at his life-- </p><p>“I hated my choice being taken from me.” Lambert nearly roared it and had to take a deep breath, looking away, jaw clenched. </p><p>“I hated that I had to be taken from my life. I had friends, you know? Before this. And they’re all dead now. And I’m still here.” Lambert clenched his hands into fists and breathed out slowly through his nose, lifting his chin. He met Geralt’s gaze. </p><p>“It’s her <em> choice </em> . And maybe, just maybe, you ought to look at it from her perspective. Ciri, you, Eskel, Me, even Vesemir-- everyone she’s cared about. She’ll age and die and we’ll still be here. Imagine it from her view, of knowing that someday she’s going to leave Ciri by herself. Her <em> family. </em> Imagine being able to prevent that. Would you not take that chance if you could?”</p><p>Geralt was quiet. </p><p>Lambert turned on his heel and walked away, leaving him alone in the empty hall. </p><p>+++</p><p>Geralt didn’t know why he woke. </p><p>He stared at the ceiling of the bedroom - not their old shared one. He had finally accepted he couldn’t sleep there any longer, could not bear it. </p><p>The moonlight lit the room from the window and Geralt stayed in the bed for a few moments longer, trying to puzzle it out. </p><p>A soft noise drifted to him. </p><p>Geralt hesitated, but then rolled from the bed. He dressed in a pair of old, worn breeches and a black tunic, peering out from his room. </p><p>Music. </p><p>It drifted down the hall - a tune all too familiar that he couldn’t <em> quite </em> pin down. </p><p>He followed it quietly. </p><p>At the threshold of the main hall, he found himself frozen in quiet grief and shock. </p><p>Zofia and Ciri sat at the table they often dined at. </p><p>Zofia’s eyes were puffy and red, cheeks tear stained. Her hands cupped around a hot mug of tea, steam floating up from it. </p><p>Both she and Ciri were wrapped in blankets. </p><p>Ciri’s eyes were red, too, but she seemed better off than Zofia, who she had an arm around. </p><p>Ciri was singing softly. </p><p>“<em> So I’ll clear the road, the gravel, and the thornbush in your path </em>.” Her voice not quite as talented as Jaskier’s, but pleasing all the same, drifted across the expanse of the hall to him. </p><p>“<em> That burns a scented oil that I’ll drip into your bath. The water’s there to warm you - and the earth is warmer when you laugh </em>.” Ciri crooned, leaning her head against Zofia’s. </p><p>Zofia sniffled. </p><p>Geralt’s knees wobbled. </p><p>He turned from the scene, stumbling back the way he’d come. </p><p>He didn’t know how far he made it before his knees gave out, sending him crumpling to the floor. He curled up against the cold stone wall there, pulling knees to his chest and pressing a hand over his mouth as he squeezed his eyes shut against the onslaught of tears. </p><p>+++</p><p>For a few days, the grief that he thought he’d fought through felt so overwhelming that any other emotion felt like a foreign language. </p><p>+++</p><p>Halfway through winter, Geralt sat Zofia down and told her that he would help her research. </p><p>Would tell her his story. </p><p>Would let her choose <em> after </em> she understood it all. </p><p>+++</p><p>The coming spring, the girls went with him on the Path. </p><p>It wasn’t always easy. </p><p>Ciri got injured and Geralt had nearly been sent into a panic. </p><p>At the same time, the amount of worry could not completely combat the pride he felt watching them work together. It could not combat the quiet happiness that grew, pushed past the blanket of sorrow like flowers sprouting between cobblestones, every time they looked at him with wide, delighted eyes. </p><p>He felt it swell in his chest when they stumbled on a field of large wildflowers, bright and vivid, swaying in the summer breeze while huge forest bumble bees buzzed about lazily. </p><p>They’d run into it headfirst without even looking back at him and Geralt stood beside Roach, watching them, quiet. Pegasus tottered along behind them, reins held loosely in Zofia’s hand.</p><p><em> Let me keep my mind on what matters </em> , the line came to him in the back of his mind in a voice so familiar he nearly looked to his right to see if Jaskier stood there, <em> which is my work, which is mostly standing still and learning to be astonished. </em></p><p>Geralt’s heart ached. </p><p>But he smiled. </p><p>It was a quiet sort of happiness he felt watching them. </p><p><em> Yes, </em> Geralt thought, watching Zofia tackle Ciri into the flowers. <em> Yes, there will be joy.  </em></p><p>His eyes stung a bit, but his grin did not falter as he led Roach towards the field, finally moving forward. </p><p>Geralt's healing began as gentle as his breaking had.</p><p>+++</p><p> </p><p>-+-</p><p> </p><p>+++</p><p>Geralt stepped onto the dock with sea salt curled hair. It had grown past his shoulders in his time on Skellige and he had pulled it all into a loose ponytail to keep it away from his face. A few short pieces by his face had fallen out stubbornly and they blew about in the breeze sweeping in from the waves. </p><p>The sun shone down from a clear blue sky - the faintest sound of music filtered through the sounds of the crowd and Geralt thought that it was a day that Jaskier would have loved. </p><p>It brought the dull ache that it always does, but it wasn’t not crippling. It didn’t bring him to his knees as it had on days a decade - two decades, nearly three - ago. The world was still alive and still beautiful, and somewhere in these docks two women waited for him. </p><p>“Geralt!” The shout carried over the heads of the bustling crowd and a smile broke across his face like the sun rose over the horizon. Golden eyes sought out green ones and instead found a golden pair rapidly approaching. Zofia slung her arms around his neck tightly, squeezing the breath out of him as she launched herself into his chest. His hands found her sides and he picked her feet off the ground, spinning her before settling her back down. He pulled an arm away to wrap around the second body that collided with the two of them, unnaturally bright green eyes peering up at him above a beaming grin. </p><p>“My girls!” Geralt laughed and this - this here is why he had dragged his feet even when he had felt so heavy he thought he may never move again. “How have you been?” His rough voice warm and open and gentle as he pulled back, a hand on each of their shoulders to take them in. </p><p>They had grown so much, into capable Witchers themselves, though only one bore the golden eyes to prove it. He ruffled their hair. </p><p>“<em> Geralt </em> .” Ciri complained, batting at his hand - “We’re not <em> children </em> anymore.” To which Geralt laughed and urged them further through the crowd, intent on escaping the docks. </p><p>“So, tell us - was it <em> really </em> a Leshen?” Zofia prodded, ever curious about his hunts, and Ciri hummed to back her up. </p><p>“Do tell.” Ciri smirked a little - she’d had her suspicions from the beginning that it was something more complicated. </p><p>It had been of course and Geralt started regaling them with a tale, his storytelling at least somewhat improved after years of having to catch the girls up on his adventures. </p><p>The music was growing louder as they approached the edge of the docks where wood turned to dirt which would turn to cobblestone that led into the city. It was quite nice, Geralt noted, and the singer’s voice filled the air like it had been an empty bowl, mixed with the strings of the instrument it accompanied and the waves in a way that had his head tipping a bit. </p><p>Something about it struck him and the crooning made him pause, brows furrowed, tipping his head. “<em> On a… ocean… tomorrow's sky…” </em>Snippets he couldn’t quite catch all of burrowing in, making something insist scratch at his mind.</p><p>“Geralt…?” Zofia ventured, quietly, prodding him to continue. </p><p>“Listen.” Geralt murmured, and the women beside him did. </p><p>“Yes…? A seaside musician. They make quite a bit of coin from sailors here.” Ciri replied, her own brows furrowing at Geralt’s strange behavior. </p><p>“No, <em> listen </em>.” Geralt insisted, now that he could hear the voice better above the clamor. Before he could process just what he was doing, he’d begun to follow the sound. Something was haunting about it, something that he couldn’t believe, that he had to see with his own eyes. </p><p>And the closer he got - </p><p>The faster his feet carried him, until he was walking briskly enough that the two women huffing questions out behind him had to jog lightly to keep up with his long strides. </p><p>He wasn’t running or exerting himself, but he felt his breath hitching in his chest as he got closer, as the words started to filter through, as Zofia made a pained noise behind him--</p><p><em> “ </em> <em> And you shall take me strongly in your arms again, and I will not remember that I even felt the pain.” </em>   It wrapped around his chest, squeezed his ribcage until his lungs felt like they couldn’t expand again. It felt like grief and love and worst of all, a twisted pained version of <em> hope </em>. </p><p>And there - a line of people-- </p><p>“Geralt -” Ciri’s choked voice reached his ears, her hand closing around his arm. </p><p>Zofia passed him, shoving through the crowd - “Let us through.” She demanded, voice rough and firm, and hurriedly the spectators scattered to let them through. </p><p>Geralt didn’t even make it that close, drawn up short, not daring to breathe. </p><p><em> “We shall walk and talk in gardens all misty and wet with rain…” </em>The musician looked up from where he was plucking at his guitar, leaned casually against a signpost, one leg cocked up to let the bottom of his boot rest against the wood. His eyes immediately found Zofia, raking over the female Witcher with open curiosity, something like recognition sparking in his eyes. </p><p>Those eyes--</p><p>Unmistakable <em> cornflower blue </em>. </p><p>Geralt had known those eyes intimately - had known them in fear and grief and <em> joy </em>. </p><p>“<em> And I will never, never, never grow so old again.” </em> The joy that lit them now was so familiar that Geralt’s knees threatened to give out from beneath him and Ciri’s hand at his elbow <em> ached </em> from how hard she was gripping him. </p><p>But this man-- </p><p>No, not man. Those pointed ears nearly hidden by dark golden hair - like wildflower honey - that curled around his jaw, worn long. He was taller than he remembered, lithe but with hidden strength behind the close fitting silks he wore. </p><p>“<em> Jaskier </em>?” Zofia’s voice came, teary in a way that Geralt had not heard in years and years. </p><p>The elf tipped his head, hummed a light, airy note. He took his hands from the guitar, in a smooth motion slinging the instrument rest at his back. </p><p>“Most know me as Dandelion, actually.” He said, lips twitching, breaking into a beaming smile that showed his perfect teeth, eyes crinkling at the corners. </p><p>Behind him Ciri let out a sob and it drew the elf’s - Jaskier’s-- Dandelion’s-- attention to the two of them further back. </p><p>“Oh.” Dandelion sucked in a breath the same time that Geralt’s knees buckled beneath him. He fell in a clatter of swords and armor, trembling. </p><p>Geralt became aware he was crying the moment that warm hands cupped his cheeks. He couldn’t catch his breath, looking up at Jaskier, at Dandelion, in disbelief. </p><p>“Oh, my love.” Dandelion murmured. And his voice - Geralt’s hands clutched at the silks that he wore, tugging him in close, people be damned. </p><p>“I’m here.” Dandelion assured, wrapped his arms around Geralt’s shoulders, let the witcher bury his face against his stomach, let him tremble. “I’m here.” Fingers picked the hair tie from his hair, brushed fingers through sea salt tangles just as carefully as he had so long ago. </p><p>He smelled the same. </p><p><em> He smelled the same </em>. </p><p>“<em> Jaskier. </em> ” Geralt <em> whimpered </em>, because it couldn’t happen, couldn’t be real. Something terrible was happening here-- </p><p>“I’m sorry it took me so long.” <em> Jaskier </em>’s voice sounded slightly choked now, too, and a slight sway told Geralt without needing to look that Zofia had plastered herself against his side, wrapped her arms around him, too. Ciri joined only a moment later, the four of them embracing in the middle of a dirt road, the clamor of the docks a bustling backdrop. </p><p>+++</p><p>Later, in a bed - </p><p>“Tell me, was there singing?” Jaskier asked, fingers tracing light patterns over Geralt’s chest. He braced his elbow against the bed, rested his cheek in his hand to look down at the witcher. </p><p>“Eventually. Yes.” Geralt rumbled, eyes still roving over Jaskier’s face, taking in the familiar and the new, trying to memorize it all. </p><p>“And laughter?” Jaskier’s hand trailed further up, brushing lightly over his collarbones, the juncture of his neck and shoulder. </p><p>“Yes.” Geralt answered, voice thick, tipping his head towards the touch. </p><p>“And joy?” A whisper. Clever fingers cupped his jaw. </p><p>“Yes, even that.” Geralt rasped, closing his eyes, pressing his lips to Jaskier’s palm. </p><p>“Then I do not regret it. Not even for a moment.” Breathed to the crown of Geralt’s hair.</p><p>Geralt wept quietly and Jaskier did not mention it, only gathered him to his chest, only wrapped him in his arms. </p><p>Even later on their horses - </p><p>“Just because my body is younger than yours doesn’t mean you can disrespect me like that!” Jaskier squawked in jest, as Zofia plucked the guitar from his hands as she kicked her horse’s sides to urge the stallion into a light trot. </p><p>“Oh, <em> please </em>. What are you going to do about it?” Zofia strummed the guitar and made an awkward sound, the stallion continuing to trot ahead. </p><p>Jaskier urged his mare into a light canter to catch up and before Geralt knew it, the two of them were racing ahead, Jaskier’s mare struggling to keep up with the bigger stallion, but Jaskier was determined to get the guitar back. </p><p>Geralt smiled, the expression a little wobbly, Ciri beside him. Their gazes met as Geralt glanced at her and they urged their own horses into a canter, trailing more sedately after the other two. </p><p>+++</p><p>In Kaer Morhen, in <em> their chambers </em> -</p><p>“I know you want to ask.” Jaskier murmured, wearing nothing but one of Geralt’s black tunics. It barely reached Jaskier’s mid-thigh and he looked-- </p><p>Beautiful. </p><p>The most beautiful thing Geralt had ever seen, lounging on the ridiculous pillows piled in the corner of the room that Geralt had all thrown together - pillows that still held Jaskier’s scent. Now they provided a nice place for Jaskier to recline, to pluck at his guitar, watching Geralt where the witcher lay in bed. </p><p>Quiet save for the sound of the instrument’s strings. </p><p>“How?” Geralt ventured, in a whisper, as if afraid speaking it aloud would make Jaskier crumble into dust before his eyes. “How are you--?” </p><p>Jaskier smiled at him, then, a soft thing that tugged at his lips, that made his eyes open in a way that had Geralt rising to sit. </p><p>“I told you that someone once told <em> me </em> that Destiny is just the embodiment of the soul’s desire to grow.” Jaskier started, continuing to add. “I think it’s a bit more complicated than that. I think there is some Destiny that’s inescapable - like death.” The elf tipped his head, looking thoughtful. </p><p>“But yes, there is some Destiny that our souls make for ourselves. Like love.” Jaskier murmured, and raised his gaze to keep contact with Geralt’s as the Witcher stood, wandering from the bed towards where he sat. </p><p>“I think our souls are far more powerful than we think. Because I didn’t remember for a long time - I was just Dandelion, the elf with an affinity for music and sympathy for the devils.” He set his guitar aside as Geralt sank down to the pillows with him, wrapping his arms around the witcher’s shoulders and drawing him to rest between his legs, against his chest. Fingers brushed through his hair. “But things came to me in dreams, slowly. And I had a choice. I remember that. I stood, in a dream, with two paths before me. One was lined with flowers and wound deep into the woods and the other-- I could hear the ocean. And I knew, without a doubt, that was where I was supposed to be. To the coast, we said.” </p><p>Geralt burrowed further into his chest and let out a soft noise. Jaskier soothed him with a soft hushing breath, nuzzling at the top of his head. </p><p>“When I woke, I could think of nothing else. I’ve been there for years, waiting. You would pass through eventually - and… I had time.” Jaskier pressed his smile there. “Nearly all the time in the world actually.” </p><p>“No stalemate.” Geralt breathed, voice small. </p><p>“No stalemate.” Jaskier agreed, gently. </p><p>Quiet reigned for a bit, only the sounds of their breathing filling the space between them. </p><p>“Lambert met a sorceress four summers after your passing.” Geralt started, suddenly, slowly - </p><p>“Oh <em> no </em>.” Jaskier groaned, tipping his head back. </p><p>“That’s what I said.” Geralt agreed, with a slow smile tugging at his lips, and started to tell Jaskier of all that he had missed. </p><p>And Jaskier listened, petting through Geralt’s hair the whole while-- </p><p>Until Geralt’s voice grew thick and slow, until Geralt stopped speaking altogether, until Geralt had fallen asleep against Jaskier’s chest. </p><p>Jaskier wasn’t far behind, the witcher’s weight pleasantly pressing him into the bed of pillows, warm and <em> home </em> and <em> right </em>. </p><p>The two of them slumbered, wrapped up in each other - </p><p>The two of them <em> wrapped up in each other </em>- </p><p>The two of them - </p><p>Two halves reunited, two parts together once more - </p><p>Somewhere, something that some called Destiny smiled. So rarely did a love so strong fight so hard and for so long to be allowed peace. </p><p>It wouldn’t last forever, but-- </p><p>Destiny could gift them this:</p><p>For years and years an elf and a witcher traveled the Continent - and beyond. Occasionally they were joined by two women, one with buckwheat honey hair, one with ashy blonde, light on their feet, swords on their backs. </p><p>Stories of love spread. Stories of witchers laughing. Stories of witchers having families. Stories of witchers being incredibly, terribly <em> human </em>. </p><p>See, the world had always had a hunger for <em> stories. </em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Wow. </p><p>I started this series in January and I've evolved so, so much as a writer. It's insane that I actually finished this - and I hope that it hasn't disappointed. </p><p>Please, if you've stuck around with me for this series, let me know your thoughts? I hope you like the ending! </p><p>Come talk to me on tumblr at xdandelionxbloomx! </p><p>Again, thank you so, so much for everything. &lt;3 &lt;3</p><p>Lyric &amp; Poetry credit in order:<br/>Of Love and Life by Caamp<br/>The Dark by ZZ Ward (lyrics sightly modified)<br/>Messenger by Mary Oliver<br/>Lion's Mane by Iron &amp; Wine<br/>Sweet Thing by Van Morrison covered by Hozier</p></blockquote></div></div>
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